Monday, April 30, 2012

Stay at Home job ever?

Love my kids. I think I always say this right at the beginning of all my posts, just so no one gets confused.
When I was a little girl (8-9?), there were so many things I wanted to do with my life. Archaeologist, fashion designer, and an actress were all at the top of the list. (There are a hundred more but a bit embarrassing to "supermodel". Reaching a total height of 5'6, there wasn't a whole lot of hope.) As I got older, I started to realise that I hated bugs (no digging in dirt for me please!), I had no fashion sense and I couldn't act to save my life.

So I decided to become a lawyer (alright, fine, pretty sure I wanted to become a meteorologist, geologist or work with the FBI also, but those were short lived when I realised I wasn't very good with math. Technically, I still want to work for the FBI, hopefully they see this and hire me immediately. For what? Don't care. But I'd make a great secret agent!). Turns out, Law school is expensive and it takes forever! (Darn Legally Blond for getting my hopes up! I should really stop watching TV.)

I tried college for a bit, didn't work out. I wasn't that motivated to study and attend class, because it was much more fun to party. After a few months, I was bored with not living my life and now had nothing to do.

What do you do when you can't pick a job or figure out your future?

Join the Military! Yea....awesome plan.

I actually spent 8 years in the Air Force, worked as a Jet Engine Mechanic and even decided to get married to my best friend. We had Evan and decided it was time to get out of the military and start living life where we wanted to, not where the military wanted us to. We both had plans to get jobs immediately as mechanics or something regarding aircraft. Turns out no one will hire a mechanic, with training, but no degree. Poop. This was a bad year for us and I'm going to skip over the rough parts for now. Maybe one day, I will revisit them, but it's not pretty.
A few more jobs popped into my head that I thought I would like to try. Private Investigator (darn Veronica Mars, best show ever though!), Forensic Anthropologist (Bones, another favorite show), and baking (I'm blaming Top Chef for this one). Like I said before, I really need to stop watching TV.

I finally picked a career (Paralegal) so then it was time for college and this started my first stint as a Stay Home Mom. Not a fan. I loved being with my son, but I missed making money, talking to adults and being more productive (and not in the laundry, dishes, cleaning kind of productive. I'm really good at doing other peoples work, but when it comes to my own...blah. No thanks). I obtained my degree as a Paralegal, obtained a great full time job and started my new life...again.

When all of a sudden- I was pregnant again. With twins this time. Awesome start in a new career field. Turns out I was high risk now and required wayyyyy too many doctor appointments. I couldn't keep up with my job and daycare was going to cost even more with 2 extra more than our house payment. I couldn't do it. Not that I didn't want to...more like we weren't going to be eating food if I continued working. And around month 7 or 8 of that pregnancy, I was really glad I wasn't working.
Stay at Home Mom time for me again. It was easier this time because I was so tired and my brain was completely fried after having 2 babies. My work load grew and I no longer desired human contact. Who wants to see people when you are lagging around 50 lbs of extra baby weight and the only things you want to wear are found in the workout section at Target.

After awhile, my husband told me I needed to get out more, so I started a part time job at a bookstore. Best idea ever! Who doesn't love books? And, I even made friends! (People actually like me? Holy crap...that's so cool! Well, at least they tell me they do...oh who cares! Close enough!)

I'm still not a 100% sure this Stay at Home Mom job is for me. I suck at cleaning ( stupid never-ending laundry. We need to invent disposable clothing. And now I realise that I suck at saving the planet.) I burn dinners (or turn them into a glue-like substance that could be used by NASA). My kids are never clean, hardly dressed and we don't venture out into the public a whole bunch (not sure if this is because I have social anxiety or because my kids tend to embarrass me whenever we leave the house...maybe both).

I love being here with my kids and now that we are all adjusted, I'm not sure I would want anything different (except for the FBI job). I don't think that I am the best at this job, it's frustrating, exhausting and it's never ending. I don't get lunch hours, everyone screams at me and wipes snot on whatever I happen to be wearing and I am sick of cartoons.

BUT, I love that I get to be here for their "firsts", I love our morning snuggles and it's wonderful to watch them learn something new. Plus, I have held on to my sanity so far!(My husband thinks otherwise. I would like to remind him that I could make Pot Roast for dinner every night).

Saturday, April 28, 2012

Will I ever learn?

So I had to head to the grocery store today and decided to go early, because I'm a coupon fanatic and want to get the goods before they are gone.

I get everyone dressed and start the car early, probably 9 a.m. I want to cry when I realise that it's raining. Actually, it's sleeting. Not that there's a huge difference when it's cold and wet. The kids are not fans of heading out early, who is when it's cold, wet and way too early to be grocery shopping?

I expected the crying/attitudes so it didn't shock me when they started getting upset before we even hit the car.

But, it's double coupon day I'm passing that up.

I think I'm adorable when I'm dumb.

They actually weren't too bad, if you don't mind screaming, yelling and pushing too bad.

We have to get the "car" cart because it's the only cart that has enough spots for all my kids. Evan sits in the car and the twins sit in the front two seats on the cart. I hate these carts. They are impossible to steer and there's not a lot of space inside for my food obsession.

The trip started out OK. I rushed through quickly, trying to grab what I needed before they kids flipped out. When all of a sudden, they flipped out! (I tried making this sound like I was surprised, but of course I knew that it was inevitable). The twins started to push each other, which resulted in a LOT of screaming and yelling.

While I was trying to stop the hair pulling and face slapping (Morgan is notorious for hair pulling), I ran over a display of granola bars. (This display had just been completed and the guy hadn't even left the aisle when I destroyed his hard work. He didn't even look at me. I think he may have been crying.)Evan said he tried to warn me about the incoming crash, but I couldn't hear him over Morgan screaming (think car alarm or tornado siren...decibel levels that will burn your ear drums).

After a temporary fix to the twin drama (it's called a bribe people) and cleaning up the granola bar mess, with constructive criticism from a 5-year old expert, ( I think I made it look even better...I should be getting paid for this crap), I start whittling down my list to the bare essentials just so I can get out of there.

Evan then tells me that he thought I looked like a "Terhog". His word, not mine. I asked him what a "Terhog" was and this was his description: "It's like a rhino that has horns like a llama and sees red so it can break it." Very flattering. Seriously, this kid has the best imagination ever. I'm betting that I have an author of some great fiction one day.

We finally make it out of there, alive (although, the cashier almost didn't survive because she told me my coupon wasn't going to work.)

I'm always amazed when people say "Aww...are they twins? (no, no they are not...I had two separate pregnancies and they just ended up being the same age. You do the math.) They are so cute!" (They can be for the most part. But today there was snot sliding down both faces, to the point where it even bubbled, add some old Pop Tart goo, Morgans nappy mullet and toss in old tear streaks, cuteness has evaporated.) Although, something about that mix makes me want to snuggle them even more.

Finally, we head back out into a delightful Minnesota spring and get back home.

I keep saying "never again" but obviously that can't be true. Stay at home Mom-remember? This is my life....and after reading these, I can't believe I don't curl up and cry more. =)

Friday, April 27, 2012

And the White Trash Award goes to....

Winner, winner, chicken dinner.
Yup. That's right. It's me.

Here are some of the reasons I am the clear winner of this high achievement:

1. Took kids to play in backyard today. Decided against actual play clothes but kept them in jammies. Why did I do this? Because I'm lazy and they would just get them dirty anyway...what's the point? Plus, my backyard is fenced in and most people have jobs around us. I had them in jackets, I doubt anyone could even tell. At least, that's what I'm telling myself.

2. How many toys do you need to have on your roof? I have 2, plus 1 on a neighboring roof. Do NOT call us to play Frisbee at your home...unless you really HATE your Frisbee's and want them to die.

3. My kids use a dirt pit for a sandbox. My husband is, for some reason, against this idea (I guess he likes grass, but our kids prefer dirt, so dirt wins). I encourage the dirt pit, because anything that keeps them quiet and out of trouble for more than 5 minutes at a time is alright by me.

4. I have towels for window coverings in our Master Bedroom. It pains me to admit this (the white trash is strong in this one) but when we moved here the ones that were there HAD to go. (I can only take so much from 1950. "Retro" is one thing, dilapidated and bug infested is another.) I put up what I had available, which was a towel, because I thought this would be temporary. 2 years later, and I'm still looking at those same faded towels.

5. My kids have runny noses. My daughter eats dirt. Dirt + runny nose = a disgusting mess that doesn't come off easily (but looks awesome if she wanted the facial hair look). Morgan finished her day with a Chin Curtain. (I looked this up on Wikipedia and this was the closest I could find to what she had going on. Plus, the term makes me giggle because it's sounds much more gross than it is. And I'm a nerd.)

6. I went outside in jeans, an old t-shirt that I covered with a stained sweater that my husband left on the floor and no socks with my shoes. My hair is the same hair I crawled out of bed with (but tossed up in a super stylish rubber band) and is such a hot, curly, fuzzy mess right now, I'm scared it would probably eat a brush. But, still I decide to play outside, thinking I'll just be in the backyard with the kids...right?

7. Wrong. I decide that it would be fun to take a walk around the neighborhood. Not even thinking about what the kids look like or taking my own appearance into account. (If Stacy and Clinton, from What Not to Wear, caught me looking like this, there's no way they would let me live. No hope for this one.) Why does everyone have to be outside during this walk of mine. I received so many horrified looks, I couldn't even begin to count. I'm pretty sure child protection services will show up sometime today. Looking at my creepy Man-Child with some delightful facial hair that would make her daddy proud, Declan with boogers sliding down his face and Evan (for once, he's the normal one.)

I gladly accept this award and hopefully, one day soon, get to pass it one to someone much more deserving. I'm going to guess that it's staying here for awhile. Not a whole lot of hope here. In fact, at the rate we're going, I may get to keep it forever! Go me!

Thursday, April 26, 2012

Define "Clean"...

OK, so if you are one of those Mom's that can manage to keep the house clean, keep children happy and healthy, make all the meals and still maintain your figure, go ahead and pat yourself on the back.

Then kick yourself in the butt for me and get off my blog. =) Just kidding...kind of.

I'm soooo not one of those Mom's. I'm just grateful that by the end of the day my house doesn't look like an episode of Hoarders, my kids aren't missing any vital pieces and I can still fit into sweatpants while pouring a bowl of cereal for dinner because I forgot to take the chicken out for dinner.

I am not a fan of cleaning. I love having a clean house, but since it doesn't stay that way long, it gets frustrating. I spend so much time cleaning my living room (3 times a day, have I mentioned that I love my kids?) that I never get a chance to actually dust or clean windows (who needs curtains when you have fingerprints and slobber?)

I even have one of those cleaning schedule things (screw you Pinterest).

It really only helps if you actually follow it. I have problems with authority and that schedule is so bossy.

I'm such a rebel. But now my house is a disaster.

I'm always embarrassed to have people over (never, ever, "surprise" will be the one "surprised", if you make it out of here alive. Like I'm going to let you spread the word that I'm not the best Stay at Home Mom.)

I devised 3 levels of house "cleanliness" that have saved my untarnished Stay at Home Mom image and won't have me awake at 3 a.m. to start my cleaning process.

   Level 1 (use if you are planning a simple "play-date" or quick company visits): Stash all the crap covering floor and all flat surfaces in available closets. If you are out of closet space, start using laundry baskets and hide them in the basement or a bedroom that you keep closed. Spray a THICK layer of Febreeze (My house tends to smell like poop, syrup and sweaty child). Vacuum quickly then have the kids go crazy on the floor so it doesn't "look" like you JUST vacuumed because people were coming. You want it to look like you vacuumed recently so people know you are a tidy mom (all about image and impressions here). Wipe down surfaces quickly using whatever you have on hand, a towel, blanket, old sock...doesn't matter. Just get the first layer of dust off the surfaces because you really haven't dusted since Christmas.

   Level 2 (for company that stays for a few days): Pretty much the same as above, but you may have to do the dishes and clean some bathrooms here. I There's always paper plates as an option or going out to eat a lot. That way, your kitchen always looks clean and tidy and no one has to eat your cooking (see cereal for dinner, mentioned above). Cleaning the bathroom sucks too. No matter how many times I clean that toilet, the second I put that darn brush down, someone is going to need to poop. I think Evan plans his day around it. I've even had him sit there by the door and wait for me to finish, JUST so he could poop. I know what his chore will be when he gets older...

   Level 3 (Use when your husband starts to mention his lack of clean clothes, there are ants forming an army on the carpet because someone threw a cracker under the couch or you missed a CD because it was hiding under the thick layer of dust on your entertainment center.) Now you actually have to clean and do the 8 loads of laundry you were saving for "tomorrow" (for me, "tomorrow" is never actually's more like 5 days from now). Slap on some rubber gloves, get out the bucket that you have hidden in the closet and block out several hours, because this WILL take some time. secret is out. My image may officially be tarnished. Or maybe I never fooled anyone...

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

One of THOSE days....

Decided to make a quick trip to Kohl's so I could pick up a bra. Exciting stuff...I know. I knew exactly what I wanted, what size and wasn't going to even try it on. (Never, ever, go into a dressing room with 3 kids to try on a bra. Worst idea ever...unless you want everyone in hearing distance to know exactly what your doing and how you have "boobies".)

I pick Evan up from school, drive to Kohl's with all 3 kids and brief them on how quick this trip will be. I keep hoping that we will be able to go into a store without anyone throwing a fit, saying anything embarrassing or doing anything embarrassing.

I don't know why I bother.

After loading the twins up in my gigantic stroller and getting inside the store, Declan poops.

And it smells terrible.

But, I'm on a QUICK mission, so I continue on. We get to the bra section and Evan starts giggling and pointing while saying "Those are for boobies". Yes, this is already going so well.

I try to run through the aisles, but since I have the biggest stroller ever created, we knock down several bras that try to block our path. (I think they make the aisles too small and compact anyway. Knocking those bras down was an example of how they need to not cram so much crap in my way.)

Morgan and Declan start to grab them, pulling them off the racks. Evan is still giggling and starts to throw "boobies" at the twins.

I decide to leave the bra aisles, leave the stroller in the main aisle and just run in to grab the ones that look like what I want. I figure I can buy 3, try them on a home and take back whatever doesn't work/fit.

This takes me 5 minutes and as I start to walk up to the front, I realise that Declan has pulled his socks off and left them in the main aisle.

I start putting his socks on, while he kicks my face and giggles (smelling like an outhouse on a sweltering day in July). A woman that works there, laughs at their antics, and asks how things are going.

Seriously? "Just peachy..." I tell her and run before she realises that the bras scattering the section are from my Destructicon (stroller).

We get to the front to pay, only to be stuck behind a guy who has to buy the LAST two place mats in existence, so we have to wait 10 minutes for a price check. During these 10 minutes, people start moving away from us (I hope this was from the poop smell and nothing else....), Morgan and Declan both try to climb out of the stroller (I didn't buckle them in, thinking I'll only be a "few" minutes...), start crying because they can't get out, and Evan won't quiet down about being "sweaty and cold at the same time".

FINALLY we get to pay. You think the torture would be done, right?

HA! You don't know me at all! Someone (lets not start pointing fingers) left chocolate eggs in her purse from around Easter time and her purse was sitting in her nice warm car all day. So when she pulled her wallet, car keys and cell phone out, everything was coated in a thick, runny, poop-like substance.

It was a blast trying to explain that it was chocolate to the cashier while I handed her my card to pay. She really did NOT want to take that card...not that I blame her.

Wow. Couldn't get much better than this. Here's our conversation while I paid:

Evan: "Mommy, is that poop?"
Me: "NO! It's chocolate. I swear." I smile at the cashier while I say this.
The cashier is starting to look like she wishes she had a different job. Shoot, I wish I had a different job.
Evan: "That's so looks just like poop. I think I even smell poop. Why does it smell like poop? Kind of like peanut butter and poop mixed together. That's really gross Mommy. Your purse has poop inside and it made a mess." He starts to laugh now.
Me: "Time to go." As I wonder about mouth guards because teeth grinding may be my new hobby.

I get home, try on all the bras....not even one fits. Figures. I'm never going out again.

Monday, April 23, 2012

How to NOT clean poop off your wall. with kids is great. Until you discover the crusty brown substance that's hiding on one of your walls and you have to somehow remove it without ruining your expert painting and tossing up whatever you ate for lunch.

It was a serious challenge. And, sadly, this isn't the first time I've had to do this.

My wall did not survive, but my lunch did!

Declan has the desire to poop in "privacy" (which means he hides against a wall or behind a couch). I can't say I have had a huge issue with this, until now. He decided yesterday to sit against the wall, poop and then walk around. I noticed a little later that he had poop on his back and all over his clothes. I started checking the house and family, wondering what/who he was against and found nothing.

Later that evening, I discovered the reason poop was smeared up his back. poor wall. (I almost took a picture, but since it made me gag, I decided against making others sick for my amusement.)

So, here's some advice on what NOT to do, if you are ever in my position. If you have never been in this position, you are so lucky. Do a quick happy dance, hug your kids for being awesome and revel in your clean, non-poop smeared, home.

1. Do NOT use a spray cleaner. The poop was encrusted on my wall, I didn't know what else to "loosen" it up with, so I sprayed it with some Mr. Clean. It smelled strongly and I really needed something to cover the poop smell as it softened up. Trying to keep my lunch inside, remember? (By the way, this did nothing but remove wall paint. Poop was still glued to the wall. There was no "softening" going on.)

2. Do NOT use your fingernails to scrape poop off the wall, even if there was a protective cloth barrier between your nails and the poop. The poop stayed where it was, but my paint relocated itself to my towel. (There are so many reasons why this was a bad idea...after chipping off 3 nails and cleaning some poop off them, I had another brilliant idea. See #3)

3. Do NOT try to scrub it off using someones toothbrush. My wall, instead of a nice brown color, has yellow blotches where I was scrubbing, which you can clearly see when looking at it.

BUT the poop is gone now...but so are my nails, some paint off my wall and someones toothbrush. (I did NOT put the toothbrush back. Just in case you were thinking I would do something that cruel and disgusting. I threw up just a bit thinking about someone brushing their teeth after...bleh.)

Poop is so much easier to clean off the wall when it's soft and can be just wiped off. I'm really hoping that I never have to do that again. I'm pretty sure I said that the last time this happened. But maybe this time I'll get lucky?! (Not sure if you've noticed but luck isn't something I have often.)

Although, while I'm at it, I should probably just plastic wrap my entire house and furniture, just in case.

Sunday, April 22, 2012

Sometimes my son creeps me out...

I have a delightful 5 year old that has never wet the bed and will get up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, alone.

My bathroom.

Which is just fine.

Except when he decides to see how loud he can make Mommy scream.

I sleep pretty deep. We have a ceiling fan that blocks out soft sounds, like gentle footsteps of a sneaky child stealthily crossing carpeted bedroom. We do have a nightlight, but it's a very soft light, just so we don't step on anything or trip (huge klutz here, remember?).

I will all of a sudden feel a change in the air around me, a kind of shift or a soft sigh. My eyes pop open and all I see is a head, hovering inches from my own.

That's when the screaming starts.

OK, so it's not full out screaming, but a pretty good shriek comes out and I startle enough to wake Jalon. (Never, ever, wake Jalon. Trust me. My son has even learned that it's a bad idea. Jalon talks like he's there, but he's not there. Full conversations in his sleep. If I hadn't been creeped out already, that would do it.)

Then Evan starts to cry a little, because I'm pretty sure I just scared the crap out of him. But I keep telling him to not just stand there and stare at me. I'm not 100% sure that I wouldn't scream if he was whispering to me, but it's worth a try, right?

"I just wanted you to tuck me in, Mommy."

You think that after years of this I would be used to it and not wake up in full out terror anymore.

But, there's seriously nothing scarier than seeing just a face staring at you in the middle of the night...

Well, OK. I'm sure I could come up with a few things that would probably scare me more, but he does a fantastic job at it for being 5 years old and not even trying.

Saturday, April 21, 2012

Who is going to clean this mess?!

My house is a disaster.

This isn't exactly shocking since I have 3 bedraggled children that run haywire through this house like 3 tiny whirlwinds leaving chaos whenever they depart, everyday, from 6 a.m. to 8 p.m.

Sometimes Jay and I make an effort to pick up some of the more dangerous landmines before heading to bed.

But, for the most part, it turns into a late night competition similar to Hunger Games. Except this is more dangerous and I'm guessing more fun.

It starts out with turning off all the lights in the house and then bolting as fast as possible to our room. Doesn't matter what path you decide to take (kitchen or living room) because both are deadly. (Although the kitchen takes you through the playroom and that's like kicking a grenade that failed to deploy properly. You're just asking for it.)

First one to the safety of our bedroom is declared the winner.

It's rare that I win this competition. I'm naturally klutzy and I freak out already thinking I'm going to be attacked, so I always trip, stub my toe or run into a wall.

More often than not, I run into the wall. No blood yet, so that's a plus!

This is better than playing a board game. Married life, with kids, is awesome.

Maybe not awesome, but you have to make the small things fun or else you just go nuts.

I'll probably clean the house tomorrow. I'm not a 100% what color my carpet is anymore. Plus, our game has taken on a new competitive edge since I just purchased a large bag of gigantic Lego's for my kids to play with and it's spread strategically throughout the house.

Wish me luck.

Friday, April 20, 2012

My New (and already Doomed) Fitness Plan

Yes, I know...don't get all negative right off the bat by saying "doomed", right?

I started out with my gym membership and would wake up every morning at 4:45 a.m., the buttcrack of dawn (I call it the buttcrack because it's dark, scary, and no one actually wants to see it). Barely awake and practically sobbing, I would drive to the gym and hop on the treadmill (repeatedly fly off: see previous post) then go home.

It became quite difficult to wake up at this horrible hour and even more difficult to stay awake and present for the rest of my day. Not terrible if I had been able to crawl back into bed and sleep for a few hours, but my kids were awake the second I stepped out of the shower (darn early risers, just wait until you get older, I will be getting even!).

I then decided to try using my Wii Zumba. I like dancing, why not in the safety of my own home where no one can see my flailing limbs and lose an eye by being next to me. I have to do it when all the kids are awake and we have turned it into "Fun Dance hour with Mommy". Here's where the "doomed" part comes into play. My first hour on the first day went something like this:

DAY 1:
11:00 a.m.-start up video game, kids start squealing in anticipation. Takes 2 minutes to clear living room of toy clutter (or landmines that when stepped on cause instant pain. I hate Lego's for this very reason), only to have them think this is a new game and shove it under my feet again.

11:05- Music starts and so do my hips. Morgan finds this funny and decides she will spend the next few minutes slamming her head against my hips and bouncing off of them. Declan is in front of the TV, spinning in circles and Evan is right next to me, trying to follow the skinny, hip, dancer girl on the screen. (Neither one of us is very good at that part. I blame the stupid, skinny, dancer girl.)

11:10- Morgan is on the floor crying because she bounced off my butt too hard and landed on hers. This girl totally takes after me in that aspect, we do NOT land well! Declan is on the floor, trying not to puke after spinning in circles for too long. Evan says "What is that girl trying to do Mommy and why are her legs moving so fast?" I don't know, but I might try to kill her.

11:15- I may finally be working enough to sweat a little (it really does not take much) and Morgan has decided to start throwing small toys at me (dodging these may be what's getting me to sweat). Evan found a new game of "put a bucket on Declans head and watch him run into walls" and I have to stop the game to control this situation before it gets out of hand.

11:16- It's out of hand. Declan slams into a wall and is on the floor crying with a bucket covering his face (at least he had protection on), Evan runs to his room because he knows it was his fault and he will be in trouble.

11:20- Everyone is calm and quiet, I resume the dance routine again. As my legs form somewhat of a bridge, the twins decide to crawl around and through them, tripping me up and making me land on the floor. After making sure we are all OK, I decide to hand over the remote to Evan and let him take over so I can calm the twins down.

11:22- I start to realise that these "dance moves" are not meant for 5 year old boys and wonder if I should turn it off or tape this and put it on Facebook.

11:23- My decision is made for me when Declan shoves Evan to the floor (yes, my 2 year old CAN push my 5 year old like he's a pillow), Morgan starts screaming because the other two are screaming, and I have to turn the whole thing off because my head just started pounding in time with the Zumba beat.

Yeah. Like I said before...doomed.

I think I'll just keep the extra few pounds. It sounds like losing them might mean losing my sanity.

Not a 100% sure it's worth least not yet.

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Adventures with a Filthy Five-year old (and other gross things)

I love Evan. I'm going to start out with that so you don't confuse love with disgust as this post continues on.

My son has a rare ability to gross me out. I am pretty familiar with boy behavior and it takes quite a bit to bother me. He must have an instruction book, because he nails it. Every. Single. Time.

**WARNING- If you are easily grossed out, please do not continue reading this post.**

I just put him to bed. He walks out of his room, smiling at me (the smiling concerns me immediately), and asks me to sniff his two fingers.

I'm a Mom. There's no way I'm doing that. "Why do you want me to sniff your fingers?"

"Because I was picking my butt and I think they smell like poop." Evan states, laughing.

My eyes open in horror and I wonder what I have done wrong in raising him to make these words come out of his mouth.

"Get out of here and go wash your hands right now." He wasn't laughing after that. I'm still trying to keep my cookies down.

So, this leads me into:

   Things I never thought I would have to say outloud. Ever.

"Get your tongue out of your nose." (To Evan when he had a runny nose, and yes, it can reach up there. I didn't name this the family "circus" because it's fun here.)

"Don't lick your brother and sister." (To Evan...ugh)

"Please don't ever wipe boogers on the wall." (To Evan and now Declan)

"Don't smack your brother in his privates." (To both my boys)

"Morgan, we don't eat poop!" (Seriously, I'm not getting paid NEARLY enough. Her breath smelled so bad I didn't even want to hold her.)

"Please take off my expensive high-heels" (I actually thought I would say this one day, to Morgan, when she was MUCH older. Not to my son Evan. Although, he can walk pretty well in them.)

I'm not going to continue here. It's not pretty. If you are about to give birth for the first time or have a young baby, please do not be afraid. Maybe you will get lucky and have normal kids.

Chances are slim. I'm beginning to believe that there's just no such thing.

Monday, April 16, 2012

Tales of Terror from a Troubled Treadmill Traveler

Tales of Terror from a Troubled Treadmill Traveler-

Whew...that title was torturous. HA. So sorry, couldn't help myself there.

Anyway, I would like to give a tiny bit of background before diving right in to the terror portion.

I used to be fit. BC (Before Children) I was in the military and it was part of my job to stay in shape. The military made time for us to be active. And my body was young and easy to manipulate. I miss that. AC (take a guess here) I never had the time to continue with working out and my body was no longer that same, easy to mold, body. It sucks. Things aren't in the same place they used to be. Won't be heading into too much detail, but I'm guessing you get the main point.

I have put on weight and wish to get rid of it.

I even entered a competition with others to lose weight and keep me motivated. I joined a gym, started eating healthier and bought new running shoes. I was so ready.

I'm not sure if it's just me, but it's been a disaster. Here are a few examples:

   1. I have fallen off a moving treadmill. I decided to multitask and check Facebook while running. Obviously, not my best idea. There were MANY people that witnessed that scene. I didn't make eye contact with anyone after that.

   2. I have fallen off a moving treadmill, a second time. Yes, it is possible to never learn from previous mistakes.

   3. I have fallen off a moving I really need to continue here? Actually, this time it wasn't my fault! I was alone on a Saturday morning (5:00 a.m.) and freaked out when the lights went off. I'm guessing the lights turn off on a sensor and I didn't have enough movement to register that I was indeed a human in the gym. I flipped out thinking I was about to be stabbed or raped and flew off the back of the treadmill. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I'm pretty sure you'll find the security video on

That's about it for now. Trust me, there are more. I'm a walking disaster. I will never be one of those casual runners that doesn't even sweat, but can run for an hour and drink water at the same time.

I sweat like a beast and the second I do anything, other than run, well...see above #1-3.

Saturday, April 14, 2012

Driving Rules: from me, to you. Use them. Please.

When I get into my car, and my sunglass go on, a new set of rules fall into place.

I tend to drive a little rough and sometimes faster than I should. Whatever. Not the point of this post.

Ok, so maybe I embellished a tiny bit when I said sometimes faster...maybe more like Fast and the Furious. I even pretend that I have a stick shift sometimes and I race everyone that sitting next to me at a stoplight. But no tickets or accidents (knocking on wood). Moving on...

I am not rude on the road (say something, I dare you), but I do have my own set of rules and they make perfect sense in my head.

For example, if there's an exit coming up and I'm in the correct lane to exit and you try to cut in front of me at the last minute, I will do my BEST to ensure that doesn't happen. I will drive next to you, indicate with hand motions and my car horn, that you will not be getting in front of me. Sometimes that doesn't work, but it still makes me feel better. I'm halfway crazy, it really doesn't take much. If you properly use your blinker and merge in enough time, that's acceptable.

I have come up with a set of rules that I feel that everyone should abide by to make my life much easier on the road. Hopefully, this won't be a problem. =)

   1. Move. If you are not going as fast/faster than I am, move. If you don't move, I will make you move. Trust me...I have my ways.
   2. Use your blinker. Not a techinical term, I get that. But you also get the point. If you do not indicate that you want over, I will not allow you over. In fact, I will do my best to ensure that you miss any exit you were aiming for. And I do this with glee and evil laughter.

   3. If you are going to drive slower than said speed limit, just save me the time and annoyance and DO NOT DRIVE. EVER.

Sometimes I wish that my car came with lasers, a dart gun or even a very loud annoying horn to scare the crap out of oblivious drivers that are doing anything but driving.

I put these rules out there for your safety. Because if I have to drive behind one more stupid, cell phone/texting, eating, picking their (enter any body part here because I've seen it all), I swear I may just go crazy and start slamming into other cars just for pure entertainment.

Friday, April 13, 2012

My FIRST Post!

Ok, well...where do I start?

My kids are my life. I spend a LOT of time with them, so any outside conversations I have end up revolving around my kids and what they did that day.

I called my blog My Crazy Family Circus because, as much as I love my kids and think they are wonderful, this house is full of crazy. Most of our meal times consist of screaming (Declan), nonstop talking/questions (Evan) and throwing as much food on the floor before the meal is over (Morgan). If any of the kids actually finish a meal, we consider that a miracle. Even as I'm typing this, I have Declan crying and throwing a fit because he can't get a shoe to stay on his foot and Morgan is trying her hardest to fit into a diaper box.

We don't get a lot of time away from our kids because it costs a fortune for a babysitter for 3 kids and there aren't too many people that want to watch a bowl full of crazy for long periods of time.

Speaking of crazy, I do believe my kids have secret meetings while I sleep and discuss how they will work together to make mommy go nuts by the end of each day. They plot and make power point presentations on my destruction. There must be graphs on what works best on tearing my patience apart. Since I have been getting better at tolerating tantrums, they have been trying other methods such as, throwing food in my shoes (so I can put them on when I'm in a hurry to go to work, not realizing that I am smushing an old, mushy Froot Loop), fighting with each other (this instantly grabs my attention as they are good at causing instant harm and drawing blood), and even wiping boogers on the wall (this is done by Evan and Declan only. Morgan hasn't figured out she can pick her nose yet, thank god!).

They start out all cuddly and sweet first thing in the morning (this is to throw me off) but then it changes to something more menacing and by 9-10 the screaming/trantrums/fighting has started. I get a bit of relief during naptime, but it starts all over again when they wake up and continues until bedtime.

My job here is to keep the house clean, keep the kids away from harm and somehow maintain my sanity.

If I've accomplished 2 out of the 3, it's been a fantastic day. Who needs to be sane anyway?